Into The Fire
by dishcalledhaggis
Summary: May your strength give us strength May your faith give us faith May your hope give us hope May your love give us love When everything's been destroyed, how do you go on? This fiction is based on songs by Bruce Springsteen.
1. Devils And Dust

Sitting in the middle of the conference hall, Jean was puzzling over a nagging feeling in her head. It had begun when she was presenting her research on genetic code, like the onset of stomach flu. Charles had seen the fractional pause in her sentence, trying to reassure the loaded glance Hank McCoy had given him, having seen it as well.

"Jean, are you all right," Hank asked as she took her seat.

"I think so," she took a deep breath, removing her glasses.

"Is there something wrong at home," Charles asked.

"I checked with Scott just now, everything is as it should be," Jean replied, though the tone of her voice held a certain doubt to it.

Hank took Jean's wrist gently, counting the beat of her pulse while Charles took a pose that suggested he was a man of advanced age resting his eyes.

"Are you feeling faint?"

"No, not at all," Jean shook her head, waiting to see what Charles said.

"There's nothing wrong in our immediate area," Charles opened his eyes after a moment.

"I need to go home."

Hank nodded, closing his laptop.

"No. Just me," Jean looked to Charles.

"Don't rush," Charles replied simply.

Jean nodded, grabbing her briefcase as she rose from her seat.

"Charles, are you sure she should be going alone," Hank asked.

"She left us here to keep us safe."

"From what," Hank's eyebrows drew together in confusion.

"For as much as I know of telepathy, Jean is something else. If she insists we stay here, we stay here," Charles turned to the speaker at the podium.

* * *

Jean pulled into the garage of Xavier's at quarter to eleven, with a growing sense of dread. Something didn't feel right, and she needed to talk to Logan.

"Back already," Storm asked.

"Have you seen Logan?"

"He can't be many places, you know how he is."

"Jean, what are you doing home," the surprised and smiling face of her husband, Scott Summers fell into step with her.

"Slim, do you know where Logan is?"

Scott's smile faltered, "He's in the gym, is there something wrong with the Professor?"

"No, he's with Hank in the city," she headed toward the elevator, Scott's hand felt too hot in her cold and clammy grasp.

"What is it," he asked quietly.

"I don't know yet," Jean hit the corresponding button on the panel.

Jean heard the clank of heavy metal as they walked into the gym; Logan looked up with hooded eyes.

"Jean?"

"Something isn't right."

"I can smell it on you, what's the intel?"

"There isn't any."

Logan frowned, looking to Scott for an answer to why his woman reeked of fear. Scott could only shrug.

"I don't know why yet, I just knew I had to get home. Can't you sense it?"

The fact that Jean had come to him first put him on alert, but the fact that she sensed something before he did had him very much on edge. While she was a finely tuned machine mentally, Logan usually had the animal instinct angle.

"Lockdown the mansion, Summers."

"I'm on it," Scott ran from the room.

"What's going on, Jean?"

"I really don't know," her chin trembled with the attempt to stay calm.

Jean groaned as a new ache hit her, Logan grabbed her around the waist as he looked to the ceiling of the lower floor. He felt the slightest disturbance above him. To feel that in the lower floors meant something big and bad had to have happened on the ground floor.

"I see it. Stryker," she whimpered. "He had a neural inhibitor."

"Stryker," Logan snarled.

"He has armed forces; they're going to kill us all," the ache subsided in Jean's head, and she ran for Cerebro.

"Jean, wait!"

"I have to shut it down, they need you upstairs!"

Her feet barely whispered over the metal floors, gaining access to Cerebro. It was an eerie peace that crashed against her hammering heart, feeling Charles' presence in the room. Jean ran to the end of the plank, falling to her knees at the edge of Cerebro's power center. Removing the glass cylinder, she ripped at the wires, manipulating the sparks to melt it down to a hunk of metal.

_Jean! Stay where you are, hide!_

"Scott," she breathed.

Clutching the cylinder to her chest, she ran into the lab she shared with Hank and typed in the self-destruct code. Time seemed to slow as she ran for the elevators; a blast to her chest knocked her to the ground.

_Scott!_

Jean felt for the wound, she felt a sticky liquid on her palm, but as she looked down she realized it was the liquid of the cylinder that had shattered under her weight. There was no gunman on the lower level. The blast she felt was…

_Scott._

Her own vision flickered and dimmed as he looked at Storm, already dead beside him, Scott would not allow her to see what he saw.

Scott cut their link as more pain left her mouth open in a silent scream. They were torturing him. She felt hollow without his mind connected to hers, dragging herself to her feet, she staggered into the elevator and went up to ground level. He was in the foyer, she had to get there.

_Scott, I'm sorry! I shouldn't have left you! Just hold on!_

"COME AND GET ME!" Logan howled with rage in another part of the mansion as he plunged his adamantium claws into any part of these masked cowards he could get close to.

Jean gave a stuttering gasp as Logan grabbed her by the arms, trying to take her to the escape hatch hidden behind the wall. Their home blazed around them. Blood and sweat streamed off his body in rivulets, she couldn't be sure how much of it was his and how much of his victims, his chest heaving with exertion. She knew by the look in his eye what he dreaded to tell her, if she didn't already know.  
"No."  
"You don't want to go in there."  
"I need to see him for myself!"  
It looked like he contemplated taking her by force, but released her and followed close by to keep her safe from anyone left alive.  
Jean sank to her knees, touching her husband's warm face. He looked peaceful, asleep; she forced herself not to look at what they did to him. Touching his neck and wrist, she knew he was gone.  
"Did you kill them all?"  
"Yes," Logan growled, bloody berserker rage still pounding in his ears.  
She kissed Scott's mouth tenderly, and stood up. Logan knelt down to close Storm's eyes, muttering something that sounded like a goodbye.  
"There's more coming," she turned her head toward the open front door.  
They ran to the escape door as powerful helicopter spotlights threw the mansion into sharp too-bright relief. Logan shoved the door open, pushing Jean through before hauling himself in as well. He closed and barred the door, following her down the tunnel.  
Jean patched up injuries as Logan and the other teachers placed students into various cars.  
"Where's Scott and Storm?"  
"They aren't coming," Jean whispered, hugging Kitty quickly before putting her into the passenger seat.  
Jean and Logan were the only two left.  
She watched the rearview lights disappear into the night; feeling like her own heart had been ripped from her body and placed in her hand. Scott, her family, the children...all gone so quickly. Her knees buckled, Logan caught her before she collapsed to the ground. His guts twisted at the dullness in her green eyes, she looked right through him.  
"C'mon Jean," Logan loaded her into the last car gently, taking the route that skirted the property at top speed.  
Grief, or possibly the explosions made it hard to hear. Logan grabbed the comm unit, shouting into the phone.  
"Charles! They stormed the goddamned house! Some of the kids, God...Scott and Stormy didn't make it...What do you want us to do?!"  
Jean turned her head, watching Logan's expression become blank.  
"Yes," he replied, and disconnected the call.  
"What did Charles say?"  
"Run for your lives."


	2. Something In The Night

Logan put the mansion behind them, driving out of New York as quickly as the car could safely go. The image of the burning mansion caused his throat to constrict painfully; there was nowhere to call home. He shook himself out of that train of thought with a small jerk of his head. Charles and Hank were going underground as well; he knew they'd be all right.

Logan pulled out the comm unit, dialing the only number he could think of in a time like this.

"Joan."

"Been a long time, handsome."

"How ya been?"

"Busy. Have you seen Frank lately?"

"In the papers," she replied.

"What area is he in?"

"Detroit, he's shaking down some drug cartels."

"Thanks, Joan."

"Don't be a stranger, Logan."

"You may see me sooner than later," he flipped the comm unit closed, looking over to the passenger seat.  
But what about Jean? She hadn't said a word since they all separated in the tunnel. There were no tears on her cheeks, none welling up in her blank green eyes. Now that the blood haze was gone from his head, he saw Jean's split and bloody lip, and couldn't remember how she got it.  
"We're here," his voice rasped strangely in his own ears.  
They got out of the car, covered in blood and sweat, ashes from the fire smudged their clothes and skin. Logan knocked on the door, watching Jean for signs of coming around.  
"I..." he began, interrupted by the door opening.

"Logan?"

"Got some room for an ol' friend?"

"Sure, c'mon in," the low voice replied from inside the dark apartment.

Jean stuck close to Logan's side as he entered the apartment, shielding her green eyes as a naked light bulb blazed to life over a large worktable. The man that stood there looked a bit like Logan, only clean shaven. He sensed her staring at him, and when his eyes met hers, she saw exactly why he was so like Logan. Jean swallowed a sob that rose up in her throat, staring down at Logan's hand holding hers.

"You look like you walked outta Hell, man."

"We did," Logan sat Jean down on the couch, nodding his thanks as Frank passed him a wet rag.

"Want a drink?"

"No thanks, Frank," Logan held Jean's chin gently in his hand and wiped the blood away.

"What happened?"

"Stryker happened."

Frank cursed under his breath, "How many casualties?"

"Two," Logan gave Frank a look that explained enough.

"You came to the right place-"

"It's just us he's after," Logan muttered.

"You know you have me to rely on."

"You don't want to get mixed up in this, Frank. Not this time."

Jean couldn't shut Frank's mind out, burying her head in her hands.

"The couch pulls out into a bed."

"Thanks."

Frank put his hand on Logan's shoulder, then went into a back bedroom.

"Jean?"

"He saw his family die."

Logan responded with a soft murmur. Jean got up from the couch, pulling the cushions away to get to the hide-a-bed. If she could sleep, she could get away from the maddening feeling she was losing her mind.

"How do you do it?"

"Do what," Logan tossed a blanket onto the mattress, kicking off his boots.

"Go on, after all you've lost."

"Survival, soldier instinct," Logan responded automatically.

"I wish I could be like that, because right now-I don't want to go on," Jean sat on the bed, overwhelmed by the heaviness in her chest.

Now that they were alone, the adrenaline of getting them far from the mansion wore off. Logan didn't know what he should do as he watched the shock set in on Jean's slender frame. She shook as if she were cold; the labored movements made her look brittle and ready to shatter.

Jean jumped at the gentle touch of Logan's fingers on her arm, looking like she had been burned with a hot poker, understanding the drawn expression he wore. He was just as weary as she was, just as lost. She sank into his chest, too spent to cry, glad for the reassuring smell of cigar smoke that clung to him. Logan pulled the blanket over her, holding her firmly in his arms.

"What are we going to do, Logan?"

"I'll think of something. Get some sleep."

* * *

Jean woke up the next morning to the sound of bacon frying on the stovetop, but what really caught her attention was the smell of coffee. Even if she was grieving, apparently her body wasn't going to avoid simple pleasures.

"Morning," Logan handed her a cup of coffee as she sat up, smelling like soap.

"Can I shower," she asked Frank.

"I don't have anything that smells particularly feminine."

"As long as I'm clean, the rest isn't an issue," she walked into the bathroom with her coffee.

She was just stepping out of the shower when she heard Frank and Logan talking.

"Could you do me a favor, take Jean to a drugstore?"

"Why me?"

"'Cause you look respectable, blend in."

"You would if you shaved," Frank taunted.

"You know I don't got a pretty face like you," Logan replied in kind.

"She'd feel more comfortable with you."

"I've got stuff to do."

"What if he tries to snatch her off the street?"

"Jean knows how to take care of herself," Logan smirked, looking over his shoulder at her when the bathroom door opened.

"Tryin' to get rid of me already," Jean asked in a detached manner.

"No, Jean. I'm only goin' to make some connections for us. If we're goin' to keep moving, you need supplies, extra clothes."

"You need anything," Jean took a wad of money Logan produced from his jeans pocket.

"Extra shirts."

"Toothbrush," she asked.

"Sure."

"Cigars?"

"Any kind," he smirked.

"If we come back and you're gone-"

"I may not beat you back here, I'm not taking off."

"See you," Jean followed Frank to the front door.

"Not before I see you, darlin'," he muttered.

Jean was surprisingly comfortable sitting in a strange man's car, it helped that she was used to Logan's silent-soldier demeanor.

"I'm sorry about your husband."

Jean looked to Frank, blinking back tears. "I'm sorry about your family."

"Logan told you."

From the way Frank and Logan interacted, they kept any real declaration of Logan's Mutant status an unspoken one; Jean made a non-committal noise, watching the busy Detroit streets.

Logan sat in Frank's living room, dialing numbers to get updates.

"Remy, talk to me."

"Ah'm in New Orleans."

"How are the girls?"

"Katherine and Rogue are all right. How is Jean?"

"Puttin' on a brave face," Logan muttered. "Have you heard from anyone?"

"Jean-Paul is taking as many into his home that he can, or trying to find other places for them."

"Anyone unaccounted for?"

"Too many, Logan," he sighed.

"I'll try to get more information for you."

"I'll be in contact with you soon," Logan snapped the comm unit shut.


	3. Don't Look Back

Jean rolled off the couch, reaching for the gun Frank insisted she keep close by as the lock turned over on the apartment door. Frank had gone to bed long ago, trying his best to keep her mind off of the fact that Logan hadn't returned. She had packed and unpacked the bag three times, too tense to keep track of her conversation with Frank, as kind as he was being to her. As she hid herself pressed against the wall behind the bookcase, she sensed Frank looking out his bedroom door.

"Logan," Frank greeted, disappearing into his dark bedroom.

Jean came out from behind the bookcase, setting the gun on the kitchen table.

"Didn't want to bring trouble back with me."

"Someone was following you?"

"I should have sent you with Kitty and Gumbo," Logan growled, tossing his jacket on the back of the couch.

"I won't go."

"You won't get hurt in New Orleans," he reasoned.

"You don't know that, I could be captured. What are you involved in?"

"Jean, you don't have to risk your own life-" he paced the floor.

She gave him a disapproving stare. "They killed my husband."

Logan closed his eyes, letting out a strained breath through his nose. "We'll have to keep on the move for awhile."

"That's fine."

"When you can't handle it anymore-"

"You'll be the first to know. I'll go to New Orleans without a fight."

"We're going to hit Stryker where it hurts, little by little, while we organize. He was subtle, so that's what we do."

"Makes sense, he'd figure us to use all our power on him all at once. Trying to flush us out like vermin," Jean said thoughtfully.

Logan sat on the couch beside her, concern in his eyes.

"I wouldn't endanger you if I were unfit to fight," Jean reassured him.

"Where's your ring," he asked.

"I gave it to Frank."

"Jean-"

"He's keeping it for me, I don't want to lose it. Besides, we have to appear completely unremarkable being that we're on the run, don't we?"

"One thing you'll never be, Jeannie, is unremarkable," Logan spoke that gentle tone that made her heart ache.

* * *

"I know you're mad, Jean-" Logan, in reality, hadn't known she'd be this mad.

"Mad? Man doesn't even start to-" she pulled her arm away as Logan took hold of her.

"Jeannie," he pleaded for understanding as she rounded on him.

"We're decoys," she hissed.

"While they're watching us, the plans will be put into motion."

"We're decoys."

"It has to start somewhere," he reasoned.

"We're friggin' _decoys_."

Logan grabbed her by the arms and pulled her close enough for their noses to brush. "Keep sayin' it loud enough, and the whole plan will be shot to hell."

"I'm sorry," she murmured.

"You know I like a good fight, Jean. But while they're following one of Stryker's personal pet projects, I'm stuck."

She nodded her understanding, eyes bright with frustrated tears.

"Are you okay, did I grab you too hard?"

"I just want them to pay for what they did to us," she bit her lip.

"They will," he rubbed her back, kissing her forehead.

Jean stiffened, looking at Logan with wide eyes. Logan's only tell was his eyes, and only once did they ever say plainly what he kept hidden otherwise, so quickly Jean dismissed it as her own affection for the wildman from Canada. He had never done more than give her a hand up after a training session, holding a door open when they happened to be going in the same direction, laugh appreciatively at her retelling of a session...

_"Jean, if something were to happen to me-" Scott persisted with a conversation Jean wanted no part of one night before bed._

_"Scott, don't talk like that!"_

_"If it happens, find someone who loves you as much as I do."_

_"Who?"_

_"Like Logan. He treats you well."_

_"Logan, are you serious," Jean took off her robe, crawling under the covers with Scott._

_"Well he's got to be a better choice than Warren Worthington the Third," Scott joked._

_"Oh Slim, I love you...but this does not mean you get to be with Emma Frost. I will haunt your ass!"_

_"So what about Betsy?"_

_"Scott Summers!"_

Jean came back to the present, her cheeks coloring as she looked at Logan in a new, frightening light.

"I...Jean, I..." Logan struggled with the right things to say to her. He always had.

Jean leaned in, kissing his cheek as her arms rested around his neck. "You understand me, sometimes better than I do myself. I forget that sometimes."

Logan had been sparing in his physical contact with her in the past weeks, once she had turned to him willingly at Frank's apartment, he knew he was done for. He was intensely loyal to her from the first day they met, vowing that even though he was far too late to gain her favor as a mate, he could accept being her teammate and true friend.

Now, he had forgotten his place and opened up a whole new set of problems other than keeping themselves alive. The phone buzzing in his jacket pocket startled them out of their embrace.

"Hello."

"Hello der, Logan."

"Gumbo, how is it in New Orleans?"

"I'm afraid we've worn out our welcome here, and Kitty wants to go to Piotr."

"We need you all safe, no matter what you decide. Talk to Jean, she's trying to rip my arm out of the socket," Logan handed the phone over.

"Remy..." she smiled and started to chatter on in partial French.

Jean then talked to Rogue and Kitty quickly, seeing that Logan was anxious to get to more pressing matters.

"Gumbo."

"Hold on der, what's goin' on between you two?"

"Once you're settled, we'll come see you," Logan glanced at Jean, who caught an edge of sharpness to his tone.

"Oui, obviously my skills are not rusty," the Cajun chuckled.

If Jean didn't know French, Logan would give Remy a few choice ones he knew in plenty of tongues.

"Call us soon."

"Oui. Take care."

Logan snapped the phone shut, pocketing it with muttered words.

"We're gonna have to move soon."

Jean nodded. She knew Frank was itching to be on his way as well. Logan pushed away from the wall, putting his arm around her waist as they walked back to Frank's apartment.

"Can something be done about the men following us?"

"That's high on the list," he smirked. "Jean..."

"Yes?"

"If I push you too hard...if you ever need some time to just get through things..."

"I'll push back. I promise."


	4. Restless Nights

"_Don't kill him!"_

_She watched as Scott fell to the ground, the light in his eyes gone. Screaming and begging as the fire raged around them, ash coating her throat, Storm fell beside Scott. _

"_No, please!"_

_Now soldiers lined up, only to be cut down by the gun. Scott and Storm buried under so many enemy bodies. The heat from the fire left a stench that made her wretch, only to throw up more ash. The soldier that had been ignoring her pleas looked her way._

"_Stop, please!"_

_The soldier reached up to the mask and drew it off._

_Red hair tumbled down the military uniform, a wicked smile playing on her lips._

Jean sat up in bed, startled out of her nightmare. Hair and clothes clung to her sweaty skin as she tried to orient herself in the dark room. Knowing it hadn't been real was no comfort to her, and she slipped out of bed to shower.

She eyed Logan's door, reached out to knock, and drew her hand back to her chest.

The grief was crippling, try as she might to convince herself that vengeance was the way to deal with it. She and Logan lived a problematic existence, falling in and out of missions to stay under the radar for criminal activity, and then going about their lives as if no X-Men, no murders, no decimation of Xavier's had occurred.

She had been able to live that double life with ease when her home consisted of others she could be herself with. Now she wasn't sure there would ever be a moment's peace. Logan tried to make life comfortable for her, but with each mission she saw his soldier persona lingering. He was living the life he understood, while that vengeance for Scott and Storm ate at her like a parasite. The man she has begun to love was gone beneath a hard shell of soldier, she was alone. Months of infiltrating compounds, killing those who would end all Mutants, losing herself in a no-holds-barred battle seemed like the right way to lighten the memory and the love of her husband and friend when the grief was new and fanned her rage. She thought she might not feel so guilty, that she would be left with some semblance of sanity.

"Grey."

Jean looked up from her cup of tea, to see Wade standing there.

"Nightmares again," he stated.

"Of course," she responded.

"You didn't wake Logan?"

"No reason to, same old stuff."

"Grey, I know-"

"Wade, save it," she sighed.

"I know I look like the boy-next-door you'd love to jump and all, but I've been where you are."

"You felt your husband die even before you walked up to his body," she asked.

"Ah, no…"

"Don't talk to me about how you know where I am," she stepped around Wade and headed for her room.

"Grey."

"What, Wade."

She stiffened as Wade put his arms around her. It was a thrill to feel human contact again, compassionate and undemanding.

"I'm sorry you lost him."

"Thank you," she replied automatically, though her mind was softening to her initial opinion of the 'merc with the mouth'. She was reminded of Bobby with a physical pang, wondering where he was, if he was safe.

"I thought you and Logan were…" Wade let her go gently.

"He's protective of me."

"So you're available," he asked with a sly grin.

"You couldn't handle me," she smirked.

"Try me."

"We have an important mission tomorrow night, get your rest," she turned away.

* * *

"You're goin' with Wade tonight," Logan instructed.

"Why?"

"Changin' up," Logan muttered.

"We haven't 'changed up' in nearly a year, Logan."

"Don't undermine my command, Jean!"

"Permission to speak to the asshole whose command I am undermining, sir!"

Wade nearly choked trying not to laugh, sobering as Logan left the room with Jean following behind him.

"What is wrong with you, Logan?"

"I smell him on you."

"Who," Jean asked, very confused.

"Wade."

"You have crossed a line, Logan. Don't think I won't forget it," she turned on her heel and finished preparing for the mission.

Seeing Jean walking through the facility like it was a pleasant thing unnerved Wade. He knew a powerful Mutant when he saw one, and no one had impressed him since Logan.

_Wade!_

She knocked him away as the bullet was fired, crumpling to the ground as the butt of a gun made contact with her shoulder from behind. Wade took out the assailant and crouched next to Jean.

"You okay?"

"Fine," she blinked back tears.

"We aren't goin' in."

"Let's go, Wade."

"Listen, redser. I've been doin' this awhile. I know you're tough and all, but this ain't your kinda fight."

"Don't tell me what I can't do," she snapped.

"You can do this all right, I'm just not making you."

Jean tried to talk on, Wade yanking her back just as repeater fire nearly found a place in her chest.

"Outside, Grey!"

She and Wade not only left the building, he took one of the small vehicles back to the rental house.

A vague feeling of frustration propelled Jean into motion.

"Logan's gonna ream you."

"Yeah, well I had my reasons."

"Intimidated by a woman who can kick your ass?"

"Intimidated by a gorgeous woman who could rip my head off without laying a finger on me," Wade grinned. "Go pack your bags."

"Thanks."

Jean altered her clothing and packed her one small duffle bag of clothes, hearing the tense exchange between Logan and Wade after the latter nearly ripped the front door off. Wade took a break from his smart mouth, getting Logan's attention despite the misinterpretation that clouded Logan with rage. She could sense Logan approaching, and didn't answer when he knocked.

"Jean."

She looked of her shoulder. "I'm sorry I failed you."

"You should have said something. Didn't I tell you to say something?"

"It was Wade that made the decision, I would have gone on."

"The hell he makes your decisions!"

"I want to go," she stated plainly.

Logan was silent for a moment.

"I know it's been hard, Jean."

"You did nothing wrong."

"Let me take you to New Orleans."

"No. I can't stand to delay the inevitable."

Jean turned to look at Logan and saw him swallow hard.

"Sitting idly by isn't what you do. You aren't finished yet."

"They can wait a few days, Jean."

"Stay," Jean leaned in, kissing Logan's mouth.

His arms wrapped around her, and she was lost in a deep kiss that was slow and easy, though they clung together as if a gale was rending them apart.

"I know you didn't-" he began.

"I love you."

She slipped out of the room, and didn't look back.


	5. Sad Eyes

Jean walked up the gravel road with the bag slung over her shoulder, hair down and playing in the breeze. The screen door slammed on the frame and Katherine was sprinting toward her.

"Jean! You're here!"

She paused to smile, but found the bag slipping from her fingers as her knees hit gravel.

"Remy, Rogue! I need help," Kitty yelled frantically as Jean was overcome.

* * *

She woke to find the bed very crowded. Remy, Rogue, and Kitty surrounded her on the king size mattress. She took a deep breath, cuddling Kitty to her chest.

"I'll be all right. Just give me time," Jean whispered.

Kitty nodded, and Remy groaned aloud.

"Morning sunshine," Jean croaked.

"Hello der, who wants breakfast?"

"Coffee," Jean and Rogue chorused, smiling in unison.

"Join me, Kitty?"

"You'll burn everything if I don't," she yawned, accepting his hand to pull her to her feet.

Rogue laid her cheek on Jean's shoulder.

"It's good to see you."

"Ditto kiddo," Jean sighed.

Rogue laughed and left the bed, puttering around the second floor.

"I have your clothes clean in the dresser, and a fresh towel on the sink."

"Thank you," Jean sat up, taking a long stretch.

Jean luxuriated in a long shower, taking the time to get scrubbed and squeaky clean. Wrapped in the fluffy towel, she sat against the counter and listened in on the sounds of people in the house. Familiar sounds made her feel wonderful, even as painful as some of her recollections were. There was a perfectly prepared cup of coffee waiting for her in her room; she practically melted with contentment as she dressed.

"Your hair needs a trim," Rogue commented.

"You offering," Jean picked at her hair with a grimace.

"Rogue held a pair of hair scissors up with a guilty smile.

"Do your worst."

Rogue traded black satin for a pair of surgical gloves, going to work on Jean's thick man of hair.

"Your hair has gotten long."

"I wanted to cut it but Logan seemed to like it," she chuckled.

"Oh really," Rogue grinned.

"Jean shrugged a shoulder, sipping her lukewarm coffee.

"Did he finally make a move on you?"

"No. He didn't want to push, the job was main priority."

"Did you make a move, then?"

"No."

"Same ol' same ol'," Rogue commented, though her face went pink. Jean knew she felt bad, thinking of Scott. "Let's go eat."

Jean ate everything on her plate and then went back for more. Sick she may be later, but now she was clean and safe and had a full belly.

"So how is the club situation?"

"It's not a mission, but we get to see great artists."

"We could get you a job there," Kitty exclaimed!

"Maybe in a few weeks," she smiled

"Of course," Remy smiled.


	6. Brilliant Disguise

Jean stepped into the club and immediately gave Remy a reprimanding look, complete with arched eyebrow, which was nothing she used to do back at the mansion.

"Not a mission, my ass."

"Being with Logan sure has changed her…vocabulary," Rogue muttered to Kitty with a laugh, covering their amused expressions before she got them with 'the eye'.

The club was fully functioning, all right, but it was a cover for illicit activities. Much like the Mansion, but with the public involved.

Remy took Jean up to the office, and a smirk on her lips grew, smoothing the black shirt she wore. Thanks to her talent, she had some leverage to getting a job here. Funny how she considered leverage a valid point to be trusted these days.

"Marcel, this is Jean."

"Pleased to meet you, Remy says you are quite the hard worker."

"I know what I'm doin' if that's what you mean," she replied, looking around his office. "You could use me here."

"Is that so, I think I'm doing a pretty good job," he smirked.

"So you know about the bouncer taking info to the cops, the tall one named Devin," she sat in the chair across from Marcel.

"How soon can you start?"

"I didn't come dressed like this for an interview. How about you show me around Marcel? Especially the security room, I want to check Remy's work."

Remy would have been offended if he wasn't so impressed by Jean's bravado, if that was in fact what it was. If she had to use this while she was healing, he couldn't see a better persona to never get past. As she dazzled Marcel with her knowledge, definitely nothing had changed as far as that was concerned, Remy made a mental note to keep a close eye on her.

* * *

With Jean in charge of security, she was able to turn the Bayou into a fortress. Anyone looking to do business that was for personal gain found themselves suddenly uninterested in trying the Bayou as a cover. Authorities tried in vain to get hired men inside, and Jean would allow it from time to time, because they would find it in better shape in the last few weeks than in the last two decades. Marcel got so much business he could only sing her praises at her skill for organization.

"That's all it is, Marcel. Organization," she grinned as they stood just outside the office, watching the revelers below.

"I don't care what they say Jean, if you are a Mutant, you are all right with me."

By now Jean knew Marcel knew about most of his staff, and he knew she ruled with respect and an iron will. She also knew he had pro-Mutant leanings, being that his nephew was a Mutant, and Jean had seen to his safety personally.

"You're okay in my book, too."

They stood in content silence, the music driving the night on like a metronome. Marcel left her side for a moment, the sound of ice striking the inside of short glasses accenting his return.

"To you, Jean. I wish you happiness, everything you've ever wanted," Marcel grinned.

"Same to you," Jean smiled, blinking away the tears in her eyes as she drank the glass of bourbon.

The burn of her insides seemed to heighten her misery, bring to life the loneliness she was able to keep at bay, working long hours so that upon falling into her bed, she couldn't keep her eyes open to wonder where the rest of her family was.

Marcel's cell phone lit up his shirt pocket. "Excuse me, Jean."

She smiled, taking a measured breath to calm herself. Though it had been weeks since they had heard from Logan, since she left in fact, that didn't necessarily mean there was trouble. The team was probably under deep cover, unable to contact them on a safe connection. Jean swirled the watered down remnants of her drink, with a deep sigh.

"We got Sia for October," Marcel announced.

"That's great, I-" Jean locked eyes with a man who was standing still in a group of moving bodies, looking at her.

Jean ran down the stairs, thankful she had worn boots on this particular evening. Her hair streamed behind her like the tail end of a comet, pushing the door open with her telekinesis she looked for him, catching sight of him moving through the dense volume of bodies in his way.

"Logan," she cried, leaping into the arms that reached for her. The smell of cigars wafted from his coat, causing the barriers she had erected around her hurts to fall as if carelessly built.

"Jeannie."


	7. Fire

Jean pulled the helmet from her head, mastering her features as Logan kicked the stand out on his bike and looked at her.

"They didn't need to throw a party," he muttered.

Looking over her shoulder, she knew Logan could have heard the activity in the house a mile away. "You know how they are."

"Jean, Logan...come on!"

Logan reiterated his opinion on the late night festivities under his breath, grabbing the saddle bags on the back of his bike. He followed Jean up to the house, who took the bag off of his shoulder as he stepped through the threshold of the house.

"It's heavy," he warned with a smirk.

"Go grab a beer and some food," she hefted the bag over her shoulder and climbed the stairs.

Opening the door she usually kept as her own, she removed some of her belongings and transferred them to Kitty's room. Heading downstairs, Jean smiled at Wade as she headed through the living room and kitchen, where she grabbed two beers. Like always, she could find Logan in the quietest, darkest corner; this particular corner being the back porch bench. Holding out an open beer to him, he gestured for her to sit.

"Have enough to eat?"

Logan nodded, taking the cold beer from her hand.

"Make it hard for a guy to leave."

"Can't blame me for trying," she smiled.

"We have to lay low for while, but it won't be forever."

"I know-" she winced at the sad tone of her reply.

"Jean," Logan sighed, resting his elbows on his knees.

"Logan, just enjoy the time you have with us."

He looked at her, rolling the bottle between his hands.

"Where did you put my bag."

"Upstairs, why?"

"Just trying to figure out how much I'm supposed to enjoy myself," he grinned, teeth gleaming in the moonlight.

Jean blushed furiously, having walked right into one of Logan's old traps.

"Hey you two, are you too good to hang out with-" Wade stopped short, looking from Jean's bashful expression to Logan, sitting back as his laugh came from deep in his chest.

"What does it mean when Jean is blushing and Logan is laughing," he asked someone inside.

"He's propositonin' 'er," Remy answered, a shuffling of cards accenting his reply.

"Remy Le Beau!"

"I'll leave you to it then. Have fun," Wade grinned, heading back inside.

"Logan," Jean hissed.

"Jean."

She looked from him to the door pointedly, as if that would explain herself.

"Good to know some things haven't changed."

"Your bag is in the spare room. With Wade's bag," she smirked, clinking her bottle against his as she stood to leave.

Logan grabbed her wrist and pulled her to him as he stood up, splaying one wide hand on the small of her back.

"Hey," he lifted her chin with a brush of his fingertips.

Trailing them down her throat and across her collarbone, he watched her pupils nearly overtake the green of her irises, feeling her sway on her feet. He met her lips with his, content that her arms slipped around his waist. When they parted, Jean touched the side of his face.

"Are you really gonna make me stay with Wade," he asked with a pained expression.

She tilted her head, lip bit in consideration.

"For now."


	8. Darkness on the Edge of Town

Logan walked into Jean's room, climbing into bed with her.

"Logan?"

"Wade snores."

Jean lay her head back onto the pillow, wondering if he knew her sleep had been fitful, thinking about him.

"You know that Scott wanted you and I together," she whispered, pressing her lips together as soon as the words left her mouth.

"What?"

"If it came to this. He knew you would almost be able to handle me," she tried to make light of her leap into uncomfortable territory.

"I'm sure he didn't plan on us being anywhere but the Mans," Logan muttered.

"Do you really think he would think we were a good match because of a mansion," she chuckled.

"Jean, I just came in here to sleep."

"Sorry."

Logan sighed deeply, sitting up.

"Forget I said anything," Jean muttered into the pillow.

"Jean, listen to me darlin'..."

"I just wanted you to know that I'm ready."

"Jean, I can wait however long..."

Jean sat up, touching his arm. "He and Storm are gone, I miss them both...I think about them all the time..."

"I know," Logan looked at her face in the dark room.

"It's almost been a year. I'm ok with moving on is because Scott wanted it for me."

"As much as I want to, I just..." he shook his head.

"I need something to hope for, so that this doesn't kill me," she leaned against his side.

Logan lifted his head, kissing her gently.

"I know."


	9. Wait For Me

The year anniversary came up hard, hitting everyone in their own way. Logan and Remy passed a large bottle between them, playing cards. Kitty wrote in her journal, Rogue put her headphones on and blasted her music as loud as she could stand it. Jean sat outside on the swing, wrapped in a blanket despite the warm sun and mug of tea. The house was still as death, the silence was unsettling for the first time in Jean's life.

Logan had gone back to the house to retrieve a few things after her departure from the team. He gave the girls some of Storm's jewelry that survived the fire, a photo album, some shirts. He also brought Jean's wedding ring back to her, and she placed it on a chain around her neck, along with the Celtic knot ring she gave Storm one Christmas.

"Hey."

"Wade." Jean hadn't even noticed Wade join her on the swing.

"Didn't know Scott very well, even when I was at the mansion…didn't have a lot of chances to talk. Storm was great, though. You never left there without having some pretty intense conversations about…nothing sometimes."

Jean chuckled. Wade touched her back, a sob escaped from her mouth.

"I always knew there would be a time when we would lose people, but never like this. I never thought it would be my husband, my best friend, students…"

"I know."

"I feel guilty, Wade."

"Why?"

"I hardly think of them," Jean toyed with the rings on the chain.

"Jean, I think they would understand, given the circumstances. You had to get everyone to safe places, to keep yourself alive. Besides, tracking down the people responsible is more than just thinking about them, it's making sure you're still here to remember them."

Jean looked at Wade awhile, eyes scrunched up against the sun. She then unfolded her legs, stood up, and kissed Wade on the top of his head.

"What's that for?"

"Let's go make some dinner."

Jean walked into the house, walked past Rogue at the stereo and pulled the plug on her headphones.

…_I won't hear one more word about changing, changing  
Guess what I am the same man, same man, same man I've always been…_

The house was full of music, Logan stomped into the room to tell Rogue to tune it down. Jean grabbed him and kissed him hard, taking a swig of the bottle in his hand.

"What's gotten into you?"

"We've had our time to wallow in how they died; now we have to remember them for how they lived."

Jean sang along with the music as she went into the kitchen, Kitty coming out of her room. Remy sat down next to Rogue, and flipped open the book of photos on her lap.

Lyrics: Changing by Airborne Toxic Event


End file.
